ACE Combat: Strong DPRK
by Mark Shepherd
Summary: History seemed to repeat itself, as the Combined forces have been pushed back to the Pusan perimeter once again. It is now up to the determination of a few pilots to save South Korea from total annihilation. (Currently accepting OCs)
1. Operation: Iron fortress

**Note: Um, hello! Although this is my first fanfic for ACE combat, I have been lurking around the fandom for awhile now and saw some great stories. So, here is my contribution. This was something I have thought up while I watched my friend play Falcon 4.0 in the Korean campaign. Also, all events of this story takes place on Earth.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ACE combat.**

* * *

_AAN network, October 21, 2013_

_International 6:00 AM news_

_The US Military is faced with its greatest military challenge it has faced in years- A North Korean armoured blitzkrieg has ripped through the defences of the Republic of Korea and has captured most of the peninsula. The combined armies of the ROK and the US have been forced back to the Pusan perimeter- its last line of defence. It may only be a matter of days before the North Koreans can break through the hastily erected defences. More US forces are being committed to the Korean theatre of operations, but given the course of the battle, they are unlikely to arrive in time. The soldiers manning foxholes along the front are bloodied, and battle weary. They are given half a chance that they would love to take the fight back to the enemy. It is now up to the Combined Air Forces to slow down the North's advance and give them that chance._

.

Bishop and his wingman Guts scrambled out of the briefing rooms to their stationed F-16C Fighting Falcons inside the tin hangars at Gimhae Air Base.

While Gimhae was not the largest military airbase inside Korea, it was a crucial one in this scenario, as it was the last major airbase within the ROK, as the rest has been taken over by the fast-paced North Korean advance. What remained of the ROKAF and the USAF were stationed at this airbase for the moment being.

Bishop, although a calm man, still has a limit to stress, and in the current situation was one of those rare times. He grubbily climbed into the cockpit, where he toggled the fuel systems and airfeed systems before starting the jet fuel and revving up the engines. Once the engines warmed up, he powered up the avionics before performing the routine flight check; Flaps, rudder, speed brake, ailerons, and elevators.

Satisfied with the responses, he requested clearance from the tower for taxi and takeoff.

"Tower, this is Warwolf one, request taxi to runway."

"Good morning Warwolf one, this is tower, you are clear for taxi to runway 36, right, hold short." Tower responded.

With this said, Bishop slowly walked the throttle to get the aircraft rolling. His wingman followed suit. The pair taxied down the taxiway to the appropriate runway before stopping briefly to get takeoff clearance.

"Tower, Warwolf one, request takeoff."

"Warwolf one, Tower, you are cleared for takeoff at runway 36, change departure."

Bishop and Guts both taxied to the runway at this moment and slammed the throttles to full. Although loaded with an ECM pod, two drop tanks and a full load of AMRAMMs and Sidewinders, both aircraft managed to climb to the skies with ease and into the cloud layers. Once Bishop got the 'E3' symbol on his RWR, he decided to ring in onto the AWACS to request for a picture.

"Magic, this is Warwolf one, we're in the air, commencing CAP, request picture," Bishop reported to the AWACS, Magic.

"Roger Warwolf one, Magic shows that a group of Warthogs, callsign 'Hog', are approaching a North Korean armoured column headed towards Taegu, assist if you can." replied Magic.

"Warwolf."

Despite the grave situation that the troops were in, there was not much they can actually do- no pilot wanted to get blown to shreds trying to cross into North Korean SAM sites. Bishop just kept his eyes on his radar screen, looking out for any blips (Which could potentially be enemy aircraft.)

However, while eager for the screen to update, his business was disturbed by a strangled voice over his headset.

"Warwolf one, this is Hog one, there's a MiG-29 at my six, please assist!" shouted the distressed A-10 pilot.

"Roger that Hog one, we have him on visual, fifteen miles." replied Bishop.

"Fulcrum has lock- he's all over me!"

At that moment, Bishop noticed a faint smoke trail to where he saw the MiG, and quickly warned the Warthog pilot to break left and out of harm's way. The pilot didn't respond a moment too soon, and made a hard left as he released a shower of flares to fool the missile.

"Jeez!"

"Warwolf two, cover me, I'm going in!" Bishop notified his wingman.

Guts nodded in affirmation and merely replied "Two" before turning away to cover his leaders rear, all while Bishop accelerated away and turned into the aggressor.

"Warwolf one, radar lock, FOX 3, close, 9 miles," Bishop exclaimed as he fired an AMRAMM towards the MiG.

"Tracking… Tracking…" Bishop said, as he watched the missile close in onto the Fulcrum, blowing the self absorbed pilot and plane into a fireball.

"Splash one, wooha!" His wingman, Guts, reported.

"Hog one, that Fulcrum is now nothing but a smoking heap in the ground," Bishop boasted.

"Thanks, I owe you a six pack." Replied the Warthog pilot, breaking away.

Before Bishop could celebrate over this small victory in the air, his RWR lit up with five more '29' symbols, representing MiG-29 radar sets. He merely looked up from the MFDs to look at the horizon, where the sun was slowly rising from the East, lighting up the landscape in the process. God, this was going to be a hell of a day.

* * *

**Well, I probably have to go back to study the entire Falcon 4 manual to start flying in the Korean theatre of operations again. Review please!**

**Also, I'm kinda accepting OCs, so if you want your OC to be inside the story, please fill out the forum and submit it via PM.**

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Nationality:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**Bio:**

**Affiliation: (USAF, USN, USMC, or ROKAF)**

**Squadron: (Can be fictional [BUT be reasonable! Not over the top!] or real)**

**Callsign:**

**Aircraft flown: (USAF: F-16C Block 50/52, F-15C/E, A-10A/C, F-22A USN: F/A-18C/D/E/F USMC: F/A-18C/D, AV-8B ROKAF: F-16C Block 32, KF-16 Block 52, F-15K)**

**Rank:**

**Other:**

**(Limit 4 OCs per person)**


	2. Iron Fortress: Day 1, Flight 1

**A/N: Sorry for the late update here people. Procrastination, schoolwork and excessive gaming have all contributed to such. I apologise for not releasing this chapter earlier and its bad quality at the moment. Feel free to point out the bad points in the story, errors in character development, and I'll try to rectify it the best I can.**

**Also, I don't have much OCs at the moment being, so if you wish, send them in. I wanted to make this a story featuring other people's OCs and I would hate it if my OCs take up the whole of this story.**

**A/N(2): I will only take 2 more squadrons of F-22 Raptors.**

**A/N(3): I may throw the United Kingdom into the mix of this story. As a result, I'm going to need a few RAF squadrons flying the Eurofighter, Tornado GR.3 and the Harrier GR9. OC limit increased to 4 per person.**

**A/N(4): Special thanks to HeartofFyrwinde for helping me proofread this story. It helped make it almost a completely different story, in the good way. If you are reading, enjoy!**

* * *

Second Lieutenant Mark Sheppard got out of his barrack and walked hastily towards the briefing room at approximately 0945 hours. The airmen of the ROKAF and the USAF have been summoned up by General Pierre La Pointe, the commander of the Sacheon airbase for the time being. Currently housing most of the allied ground-attack squadrons, they were primarily tasked to commence ground attack to the west, in order to prevent a breakthrough. The garrison, currently under strength, was composed of about 36 aircraft, which were divided between the USAF 88th Fighter Squadron, which flew the F-16 Block 52, the newly-arrived 1776th Tactical Fighter Squadron, a two plane squadron with the F-22A Raptor, all along with their Korean peers of the 120th Fighter Wing with their KF-16 Block 52s.

Being a new recruit that has only recently been assigned to the 88th FS, he tended to believe that he was one of those rookies was pretty much screwed once he's up in the air.

Looking around, he could already see both his Korean and American peers getting worked up over the situation at hand. Many of them were rather talking nonsense with their friends before their sorties, while only a few seemed to be taking the situation at hand very seriously. He simply walked past them down the taxiway and towards the command center.

He was just about to enter the building before a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. He looked around, and pretty much, he saw the Slovak figure that happened to be his wingman and closest friend at the base.

"Hey, buddy, you ready for this?"

"Uhm, sure." Sheppard lied.

The pair then proceeded to enter the building and took a seat in the briefing room. Sitting down at one of the seats, he watched as La Pointe walked in as the lights dimmed out for the projector's way. From there, a map of the Korean theatre of operations showed up on the white background.

Sheppard examined La Pointe briefly at this moment. Although he looked similar to what one may call a 'grandfather' figure, the Frenchman was robustfully healthy, with well kempt gray hair and a rather gentle face, despite the military outfit, all complete with a pair of brown glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. However, his thoughts were cut off as the Frenchman began to talk.

"Good Morning gentlemen," The general started. "As you can see, Gwangju airbase has recently been housing several squadrons of ground attack aircraft, mainly consisting of Su-17 and Su-25 ground attack aircraft. Command has ordered a runway attack on the airfield to stall the enemy from commencing any attack runs on our eastern flank."

Pointing at a part of the map and drawing a circle around it, the General continued on. "Air defences around the airbase consists of mostly KS-30 Flak cannons, SA-16 Gimlet MANPADS, along with a number of SA-2 Guideline launchers."

Most of the pilots simply proceeded to draw some notes down onto their map pouches stashed in their G-suits. It had a plastic cover, so they were not quite worried about erasing a mistake, should they have made one.

"The 88th Fighter squadron will commence a SEAD strike on the SA-2 launchers to clear way for the 120th, which will then proceed to bombard their runway with cluster munitions. The 1776th will provide escort for the Wild Weasels. Any questions?"

Sheppard raised his hand at the moment and asked, "Rules of engagement? And what about CSAR?"

"You must check IFF with the AWACS before you fire any BVR missiles, as not all of our aircraft have the proper transponders," La Pointe replied. "As for CSAR, we have a special guest performing that task."

Raising a hand, Akos asked, "Who is this guest?"

"He's part of Kronus International Consulting, a PMC company, callsign Weasel 3-1," La Pointe responded. "Also, as his currently deployed team flies Ex-Russian Mi-17 helicopters, CHECK your IFF before firing on their helicopters- Last thing we need is friendly fire and our CSAR team being lost."

There was a brief moment of silence before another hand shot up.

"Will there be any reinforcements inbound?"

Asked Revere, the commander of the 1776th Tactical Fighter Squadron. Sheppard can't seem to remember his name, but shrugged it off anyways.

"Currently, the 27th Marine Expeditionary Unit and the Eighth Carrier Strike group is 250 nautical miles offshore, and have grounded their aircraft due to poor weather conditions. They should be able to commence sorties after the weather clears up. Is that all?" The General concluded.

There was a short period of silence inside the room before it was broken by all of the men standing up from their seats.

"Good hunting. Dismissed!"

.

Captain Henry "Hank" Revere scrambled out of the crowd towards his Raptor at the taxiway. His wingman, 1st Lieutenant Emma Francis has already made her way into the cockpit of her Raptor with the help of her crew chief.

Although in his early thirties, Captain Revere, call sign "Rider", boasted a lean and fit figure, much like the younger fighter pilots, much of which was hidden under his gray flight uniform and tight-fitting g-suit. His sandy blond hair glinted slightly in the bright sunlight, while his green eyes showed both strength and confidence as his sight was focused on his sleek stealth fighter.

His wingman, Emma, although slightly shorter than him, was no less skilled than himself, especially since a near death experience with a Su-35 during a carrier training mission. It was ever since that incident that she vowed to protect her leader at all costs. While hear beauty was more or less equal to that of some well known actresses, it was generally well concealed with her gray uniform and pilot's helmet. She simply gave Revere a thumbs up as he walked to his Raptor.

However, Revere was all but slightly disturbed by a pair of pilots who were talking nervously as he passed by them. Looking back at them, he found out that it was the two pilots of the 88th Fighter Squadron that was supposed to receive air cover from his squadron as they commenced a SEAD strike.

Although normally a rather silent person in large-scale social situations, he was rather open in small-scale scenarios. As a result, he decided to be a good Samaritan and attempt to comfort the rookies before their first combat sortie.

Putting his hand on the taller one's shoulder, he managed to speak while maintaining a calm tone and a faint smile.

"Hey, Lieutenant. Take it easy up there today. You guys need help, call me and Emma in and we'll clear a path for you. Got it?"

"Wha? Er- I mean, sure thing, sir!" the subordinate replied with uneasiness as he turned to face the Captain.

Revere took a moment to examine Sheppard's figure. While he stood slightly taller than him and boasted a reasonable build, his true gray eyes were filled with much uneasiness and fear. His quick examination took less than a few seconds, as the trio departed to their properly stationed aircraft.

Revere walked over to his Raptor, where the crew chief proceeded to help him up with a ladder. He proceeded to strap himself to the ACES ejection seat before securing the oxygen mask onto the receiver hose and his helmet on his head.

Closing the tinted bubble canopy, he proceeded to turn the power switch to 'Main Power', and changing the airfeed systems to normal selection. Starting the jetfuel starter, he waited for it to move to 20% RPM. Feeling the connection between his machine as the cockpit thrummed subtly and the engines hissed to life, he moved the throttle halfway, then all the way to speed up the engines. As the RPM sped up, the whining sounds turned into a low hum he pulled the throttle back to idle, and proceeded to turn on all of the MFDs and systems by flipping all of the switches on the right side of his ejection seat.

After arming the ejection seat and performing the usual flight check, he turned up the audio knobs, and was much satisfied when he heard the various voices of radio chatter coming from his command channel.

"Bullfrog Four-one, attacking ground target, bulls-eye zero-three-zero, twenty miles."

"Magic one, Warwolf one, be advised, hostile launch activity detected, bulls-eye three-five-zero, thirty miles."

"Gambler one, FOX three long!"

"Haystack two, let's go home."

As he watched the two F-4E Phantoms next to his Raptor taxi to the taxiway and then the runway, the tower cleared him as the next one in line for taxi.

"Rider, Sacheon tower, taxi runway three-six, hold short." The feminine voice reported.

Just as Revere and his wingman taxied towards the taxiway, his peace was suddenly disturbed by an overly-confident and arrogant voice in a heavy Korean accent.

"AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT LITTLE SUCKER BURN, YEAH!"

Revere rolled his eyes and groaned under his breath. God, not this idiot again, he thought. It was Korean Major Kim Uk Hyun, an F-4 pilot out of Pusan, and as big of a cocky, overconfident and disrespectful whackjob as he'd ever seen. The guy was good in an F-4, he and Emma could both admit that much. But that damn ego of Hyun's was big enough to have its own Senate, he thought.

He cleared his throat in preparation to tell the guy off, but one of the pilots in the 88th-Akos-beat him to it.

"Hey, buddy, nice to hear you splashed one, but would ya not, you know, shout it to high heaven over the whole military channel?!" Akos spoke up.

"Whatever", the cocky pilot replied as he kept to himself.

Trying to relax has he was about to taxi to the runway, his radio cracked to life again, except this time it was from the AWACS, Magic.

"Magic to Rider, a flight of four MiG-29s are heading towards Sacheon airfield and are threatening the KC-135 tanker, along with an EA-6 Prowler- Cancel escort mission and engage the bandits."

"Roger that," Revere responded as he lowered his sunshade visor down, covering his entire face with the oxygen mask.

"Rebel one, you are cleared for scramble, runway three-six, climb to twenty thousand, change departure," Tower GCI reported to the Raptor pilot.

The two quickly taxied to the runway and slammed the throttles to full. Both of the F-119 turbofans shot out flames from the nozzle, briefly glassing the air around the exhaust as both birds pulled to the skies.

.

Sheppard watched as he watched the two dark-metallic gray aircraft takeoff from the asphalt strip. He looked to the left of his cockpit, where the last F-4E in-line taxied to the runway. It would be his turn after them.

After sitting back and watching the F-4 jets takeoff, he was notified by the tower that it was his turn to taxi. Sliding his visor down and walking the throttle slowly, he carefully steered his jet onto the taxiway and towards the runway.

"So this is it," his wingman finally managed.

"Relax," his leader informed. "I'm pretty sure that those Krommies are rusting in the tin hangars, that's for sure."

"Whatever you say," his wingman replied.

However, as the pair were quietly taxing down towards the indicated runway, Akos was suddenly disturbed as he checked his fuel meter.

"I have a problem!" He declared to both the tower and his leader.

"What's wrong?" Sheppard replied.

"Oh no no," Akos started. "I remember my fuel state was almost 12000 when we started on the ramp, and now it's less than 1500 and decreasing."

Shutting down his engine and opening his canopy, he looked out behind his jet, and sure enough, he saw a trail of jet fuel all over the taxiway. His fuel tanks were leaking.

Sooner or later, the ground crew scrambled to the site to investigate the problem. As they towed Akos' jet away from the taxiway to prevent traffic from being blocked, the rest of the crew quickly removed the wing drop tanks and the ECM pod on Sheppard's jet and replaced the drop tanks with two more AGM-88 HARMs and the ECM pod with a centerline drop tank.

While the crew was busy handling with Sheppard's armaments, he was busy looking at a civilian Boeing 747 in low altitude, struggling to climb upwards, possibly due to overloads or engine problems.

"God, that thing is flying low," Sheppard said as he raised his tinted visor.

Was he was observing the metal giant struggling to climb, he suddenly saw a white streak, speeding right towards the giant. He instantly identified it as a SAM launch, for which it slammed right into the tail of the aircraft, making it burst into a huge ball of flame.

"Mayday mayday mayday, this is British Airways flight three-three-zero, we just took a missile hit, we're going dow-" the panic stricken aircraft pilot reported. He could clearly hear the alarms blaring off and panic-stricken civilians screaming out of fear and chaos before it was supressed by a deafening explosion and then filled back up with static.

Although it looks simply like a plane crash for most people, but for Sheppard, it was as though 9/11 had just happened all over again right in front of him. He stared aghast at the raging fireball in the distance, which was already belching clouds of thick black smoke. All those innocent people-hundreds of them-had just died, and for what reason? None. It was all on some idiot North Korean who couldn't even tell... damn! The icy feeling in his gut didn't subside, but he schooled his face into a mask, determined not to appear shaken.

"Damn!"

One of the ground crew members then declared that they had completed rearming and that it was safe to proceed with engine startup. Sheppard quickly started up the engine again, and proceeded to taxi to the runway.

"Avenger one, Sacheon tower, you are cleared for takeoff runway three-six, change departure," the tower informed.

Sheppard quickly took off from the runway and resumed navigation towards the designated waypoints. As much as he wanted to check the Jumbo Jet crash site, he still kept his eyes from doing so in order to shake off those old times. He was soon contacted by Magic again before he could keep on thinking about the issue.

"Avenger one, your escort flight now consists of a two-ship of F-4E Phantoms, callsign Gator. Understood?"

"Roger that," he replied, as he checked his six to find the Phantoms now trailing at his tail.

"American," the Korean pilot reported in a heavily accented voice. "Can you hear us through this channel?"

"Roger," Sheppard replied.

"Very well, proceed with strike package," the pilot responded as they trailed in a V formation.

.

Revere and his wingman Francis are at 28,000 feet in the air, scanning the horizon with their powerful APG-77 radar sets situated in the nose of the aircraft. Magic has informed them that a flight of four MiG-29s were headed this way, potentially threatening the KC-135 tanker and the EA-6 Prowler commencing ECM coverage.

"Rider to Falcon, you see anything?" Revere asked.

"My scope's clear, boss." Francis replied.

"Sure hope we get to see a good challenge around here for once," Revere joked.

"Oh, come on. Rider, the last time you were challenged was back in flight training!" Francis responded.

"And you're any different?" Revere countered.

"...Damn, you got me."

As the two finished the playful conversation, Revere looked down at his radar screen and saw two blips on it, about twenty five nautical miles away. Fifteen seconds later, he saw another two blips appear near the previous two.

"Magic, we have radar contact with four unknown targets, request IFF identification," Revere reported.

"Roger that," Magic responded.

Although the identification only took a few seconds normally, this AWACS operator appears to be taking his time or is extremely relaxed. After a fifteen second delay, the operator finally responded.

"Negative, Rider, IFF identifications are shown as negative, you are cleared to engage and destroy."

Hearing this quickly, Revere and Francis quickly assigned targets to engage. Francis agreed to engage the formation to the left, while Revere agreed to engage the formation to the right. Flipping on the 'Master Arm' switch, they selected their AIM-120D missiles and spiked their targets.

"We're in range," Revere notified his wingman as he depressed the red button on the stick with his thumb. "Rider one, FOX 3 medium!"

"Falcon one, FOX 3 medium!" Francis called out.

The internal weapons bay door slammed open, and a loud thunk was heard as two AIM-120 missiles dropped out from the weapons bay and streaked towards their designated targets. Revere watched as the faint glow of the rocket motor streaked further away from the jet and turned into their targets. Sooner or later, the timer on the HUD ran out, and it was followed by four fiery streaks of burning scrap metal falling out of the skies.

"Four more for the landfill!" Francis declared over the small victory.

Revere looked at the flaming wrecks more carefully. "No chute," he declared.

"Good kills Rebel team," Magic applauded. "Continue with CAP."

Revere, however, felt that there was something missing when Magic reported this, and quickly remembered that he was supposed to provide a SEAD escort for Sheppard's flight of F-16s.

"Should we return to SEAD escort?" asked Revere.

"Negative," replied Magic. "That task has been taken over by a flight of F-4 Phantoms, resume CAP mission."

"Roger that."

"Looks like we didn't get a challenge after all," Francis joked.

"I wouldn't say that," Revere replied. "I have a bad feeling for Avenger flight' SEAD strike."

"Oh come on," Francis reassured her leader. "I'm sure it can't turn out that bad."

"Well, you may have a point," the Captain replied. "They should be able to hold off by themselves for a minute or so.

.

Sheppard and the flight of Phantoms has finally reached the fifth waypoint when his RWR chirped suddenly. Looking down at the small LED display, he was rather surprised to see an '11' symbol on it, indicating an SA-11 Buk SAM, as it was a rare sight to see when the majority of the DPRK air defences consisted of outdated SA-2 launchers.

Checking his navigation MFD, he was surprised for a moment as he saw a '2' and a red circle show up, indicating that he was in the danger zone of the SA-2 SAM site. He reacted not a moment too soon by turning his aircraft away, just before he heard the rapid pitch of a lock-on and the unforgettable beeping of a missile launch.

"Phantom one, Avenger one, SAM launch, five o'clock!" the lead F-4 pilot warned.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw a puff of white smoke from the missile and proceeded to punch out chaff to confuse the seeker before breaking away hard, causing the missile to go stupid and fly harmlessly into the void.

"Close one," the lead Phantom's RIO reported.

With the missile off their backs, it was now Sheppard's turn to be the aggressor. Pressing the 'A-G' button under the HUD, he selected his AGM-88 HARMs and waited for the wiley SAM operator to switch on his radar again so the passive-guided missile can track.

Sooner or later, the SA-2 radar lit up again on his RWR, and proceeded to spike him again, filling his headset with the monotone chirping of the RWR warning. Slaying the cursor over the '2' symbol on his right MFD, he locked onto the SAM site and the boresight on the HUD flashed over the designated area.

Still sweating buckets, he depressed the red button with his thumb. Much to his surprise, nothing happened. Thinking that he didn't press the button correctly, he depressed it again, again with no avail.

However, he looked over to the left side of the left MFD, he saw the 'Master Arm' switch switched at safe. Almost double-face palming himself, he flipped it to the 'Arm' position and depressed the button again, seeing a single AGM-88 missile streak off its rack and towards its designated target.

"Magnum," he declared as the missile warning blared in his ears again.

Quickly pushing the stick sideways into a roll and pulling it down, Sheppard hastily pulled a split-S manoeuvre while he punched out chaff, narrowly escaping another missile.

"Close one, American," The lead F-4 replied again.

As the small element turned away from the SAM site to avoid anymore missile launches, they simply waited before the '2' and the circle disappeared from the navigation screen, indicating that it was neutralized.

"Target destroyed," Sheppard relayed the success to command.

Sheppard proceeded to carefully approach the SA-11 SAM site, steadily navigating through the ground-search radars marked by an 'S' symbol. Once he was able to see the '11' symbol on his right MFD, he scrolled his cursor over the symbol and proceeded to lock it on.

"Magnum," he called out as another HARM lit up and streaked away from the weapons pylon.

The flight element broke away to return to base. However, their transit back to base was disrupted by the rapid pitching tone of the RWR, indicating a MiG-29 spike at 10 o'clock.

"Gator one, I'm spiked!" Sheppard reported as he broke into the threat in an attempt to tackle him at his own game.

"Roger that," the lead Phantom pilot reported. His RIO armed the AIM-7 missiles and spiked the target with the radar.

However, the pilot didn't expect his RIO to immediately launch a missile, something that he was slightly surprised at when he saw a missile streak away from the aircraft and into the bogey. Nonetheless, he still reported the launch of a Sparrow by calling "Fox 1" over the command channel and kept his nose pointed at the MiG.

The MiG didn't notice the missile streak towards him until he saw a white streak of smoke closing into him. He attempted to break the lock by throwing out chaff and turning hard into the missile, but it was all to no avail. The Sparrow smashed into the center of the airframe, effectively splitting it in half and causing it to burn like tinder.

"Gator one, splash one," the pilot reported.

"Close one," the second Phantom pilot reported. However, it was one of those times when the people spoke too soon.

Right after Gator two made the following remark, two more '29' and '21' symbols lit up on their RWRs, along with a 'M' symbol flashing and closing into the center, indicating an active missile lock. The flight soon realised that these weren't the rusty MiGs one would find in a scrap yard, but were state of the art MiG-21-93s and MiG-29Ms, carrying missiles that rivalled their advanced American counterparts.

Gator two, unready for such a challenge, fell prey to the first volley of missiles as he did not react to the warning in time. The R-77 homed in and turned onto the rear, smashing into the engine pipe and dismembering the aircraft from the inside.

"I'm hit, punching out!" the second Phantom pilot reported as his RIO and him were ejected from the flaming wreck.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" his leader shouted over the loss of his wingman.

Sheppard saw a single Fishbed turn into the rear of Gator one and proceeded to switch to his AIM-9 missiles. Putting the boresight onto the hot exhaust pipe of the MiG-21, the seeker head let out a sharp growl to indicate a solid lock on target.

"Avenger one, FOX 2 close!" Sheppard declared as he shakily squeezed the stick and depressed the red button with his thumb.

He watched as the missile ripped off the inner pylon and twisted into the aggressor. It detonated right above the canopy, shattering it and spraying the pilot with lethal doses of shrapnel. He gave a sigh of relief as he reported, "Splash one."

The Phantom pilot saw another aircraft over him, this time a MiG-29M. He pulled the stick up and attempted to turn into him, but was outmatched by the turning ability of the Fulcrum. He pulled back the stick further, overstressing the airframe and making it buck and whine under the g-forces exerted onto it as he pushed the throttle into afterburn to compensate for the energy loss. Although fighting to stay into the turn, the Fulcrum pilot had managed to get onto his 6 because of his better turning performance. The communist pilot let loose of his 30mm cannon, Swiss-cheesing the rudder and the elevators.

"Gator one, punching out!" the panicked Phantom pilot reported as both himself and his RIO proceeds to rig the ejection latches and punch out of the wreck.

Left alone to fight against three aircraft, it would be illogical and most certainly lethal to do so. With no other options left, Sheppard decided to call for help.

"Avenger one, Magic, I'm engaged defensive at twenty-five thousand, bearing three-three five, request immediate backup, OVER," he desperately replied as he saw a Fulcrum break into his six.

.

The call was received on all channels, with Rebel team having no exception. Being the closest squadron available to the point of incident, Magic requested them to assist.

"Magic to Rider, a single Falcon is engaged defensive against a flight of three Fulcrums and Fishbeds, can you assist?" Magic requested.

"Wilco," Revere replied coolly to the dire SITREP.

"Think that he'll hold?" Francis asked.

"He will, only if we help him in time," Revere said as he turned the aircraft towards the vector Magic has designated. Looking at his radar screen, two of the MiGs stuck out like sore thumbs on the radar, despite attempts to hide it with stealth paint. The two assigned targets similarly to what they did in their previous engagement, and locked them on before depressing the red button on the stick.

"Rider one, FOX 3 medium!"

"Falcon one, FOX 3 medium!"

The internal weapons bay door slammed open as a missile dropped from both aircraft's internal weapons bays, streaking towards their opponents at hypersonic speed. It took merely fifteen seconds for the missile to turn into their targets and hit true, causing them to burst into balls of flame trailing black smoke.

"Another two bites the dust," he said with a smirk, glancing out at the plummeting wreckage. "No chute."

Although Revere was reporting the kills to AWACS and continued to search for Sheppard, Francis saw a faint glint of silver at her two o'clock. Looking closer, she saw that it was Sheppard's F-16 getting chased by the remaining MiG-29M. She broke away from the formation to engage the MiG.

Noticing this, Revere declared, "Emma, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to shake off that MiG from Avenger one's six," she replied as she tried to get into a firing solution for her 20mm cannon.

"Very well," Revere replied as he trailed close to his wingman.

As Francis was right behind the MiG trying to get the gun pipper onto the jet, the Fulcrum pilot was too absorbed in vengeance of attempting to kill Sheppard and outright ignored the fact that a Raptor pilot was spiking his six o'clock.

"SURPRISE!" Francis shouted as she pulled the trigger on the stick. The gun door slapped open with a thud, followed by the steady sound of 20mm explosive shells whizzing out through the side of the stealth fighter. The shells impacted the rear of the Fulcrum, causing a single engine to explode and the rudders being torn off of the aircraft itself. The MiG spiralled downwards in a flat spin before the pilot punched out.

.

Sheppard opened his eyes again, and was surprised to see that he was very much alive, much less injured. He looked out the side of the canopy and was surprised to see the two Raptors from Rebel squadron. He even raised his visor to confirm that he was not dreaming.

"I'm... not dead?" he managed, blinking in surprise.

"Hey buddy…" Revere started. "You with us here?"

"Yeah, I think," Sheppard responded.

"What happened to the Phantoms?" Francis asked.

"They were downed by the MiGs," Sheppard replied. "All four of them escaped, though."

We'd better call in a chopper," Revere suggested. "I'm getting close to fumes here."

"Agreed," Sheppard and Francis replied in unison.

Revere rang in with Magic to request for a rescue chopper for the downed airmen, as the enemy would be onto them by the minute.

"Rider one, Magic, we have four downed airmen northeast of Sacheon, requesting a CSAR chopper," Revere reported.

"Acknowledged," Magic replied. "CSAR should be arriving shortly from Sacheon."

Without further ado, the three sped back to the Pusan perimeter to land and get some much needed rest.

* * *

**Pilots Captain Henry 'Hank' Revere (Callsign Rider) and 1LT Emma Francis (Callsign Faclon) belongs to HeartofFyrwinde (F-22A, F-15E)**

**Staff Sergeant Andre Ritter belongs to laZardo (Mi-17) (He'll appear next chapter, only mentioned for this one.)**

**Avenger squadron belongs to me (F-16C Block 52.)**

**Gator squadron also belongs to me (F-4E)**

**Cocky Korean Major belongs to me as well. (F-4E)**

**My OCs will be phased out as I get more OC submissions- Feel free to send them in PM with the forum in Chapter 1.**


End file.
